


Bid Those Sad Feelings Adieu

by Stay_Frosty



Category: The Book of Mormon - Ambiguous Fandom, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mentions of Cancer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25678183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stay_Frosty/pseuds/Stay_Frosty
Summary: What was originally intended to be a simple exploration of the headcanon " James cried every time someone had an argument in the hut and he usually ended up hiding in his closet" by H3ckdreams, ended up being a 4.5K background story of Churchtart's relationshipi can only apologise for my lack of self-control
Relationships: (hinted), Elder "Connor" McKinley/Kevin Price, Elder Church/Elder Thomas (Book of Mormon Musical)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Bid Those Sad Feelings Adieu

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this! please let me know your thoughts!

James Church did not bond easily. It seemed that keeping your emotions suppressed for the majority of your life made it somewhat difficult to form meaningful connections with others, but he was fine with that. Keeping himself to himself was safer than opening up to people and trusting them, only for them to hurt him - or worse, for him to hurt them. Sure, throughout school he made the odd friend or two, but those connections were very quickly brought to a halt when they began asking too many questions.

The one exception to this unspoken rule of his was Elder Thomas. The tiny bundle of blonde sunshine had skipped into his life and made his stomach twist in a way that wasn’t caused by dread or fear. Whether he liked it or not, there was no denying the blush that crawled up his neck when poptarts smiled brightly and sent him a little wave the first time they’d been introduced. 

Naturally, James began to avoid him. 

That is, he tried to avoid him, but it was somewhat difficult to completely disconnect yourself from someone who you lived with, especially in such small living quarters. It seemed that everywhere he went, Chris’ sparkly personality would follow. 

They had not spoken a lot, not for Chris’ lack of trying, and James knew it wasn’t fair to treat someone as fluffy and as good-natured as Elder Poptarts as coldly as he did. It was safer that way, James would remind himself, but that did not stop the jarring sense of guilt he would feel whenever Poptarts would try and befriend him, only to be brushed off. 

That all changed, however, only two weeks into their mission. It was a miracle, really, that he had made it an entire fortnight without being so disturbed by a hell dream that he was unable to head back to sleep. The centre of his dream, as usual, was his father and the guilt that came with leaving his mother alone with her husband for _two whole years._

Conscious of the sleeping Elder Davis in the bed beside him, he decided he was better off getting up and grabbing a glass of water than even attempting to stay where he was. (the very last thing he wanted to do was wake his mission companion and feel like even more of a burden than he already did most of the time). So, quietly, he crawled out of bed and gently opened the door to their room, closing it again with just as little sound. 

When he had reached the kitchen, he noticed someone else sat at the table. Oh goodness, the lord really had it out for him tonight. In the darkness he was unable to make out exactly which Elder it was, but whoever it was - they were distressed. The small sniffles that came from the middle of the room were only accentuated by the quiet of the otherwise silent room. 

James was not sure how to approach the situation. Should he simply go back to bed, pretend that he saw and heard nothing? No, of course not. That would make him a bad Mormon and an even worse friend. He might not be close to any of the other elders, but he was not a bad person. Besides, this predicament was not unfamiliar to Elder Church, as he had many a time found his mother in the same position, and not once had he let her suffer alone. 

He cleared his throat. 

The figure at the table jumped in surprise and quickly darted his attention to the doorway. James flicked on the light and discovered that it was none other than Elder Thomas occupying the table. It was somewhat jarring to take in the other’s appearance; James had never seen the other Elder look so distressed. His usual optimistic, gosh darn beautiful smile had been replaced with a solemn frown. His usually gleaming, strikingly blue eyes were bloodshot and filled to the brim with glossy tears. His usually so well styled and put together blonde hair was dishevelled, pointing in all directions and put simply a mess. 

“Oh,” Elder Thomas’ voice was small. The shorter boy quickly wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and ran a hand through his hair, as if he would somehow be able to convince Chris that there was nothing the matter. “Hello, Elder Church. What are you doing up? Are you alright?” he asked, his voice more cheery than before. James knew it was forced. 

“I, uh,” James cleared his throat. “I had a dream and couldn’t fall back asleep. I didn’t wanna wake Davis, so.” he gestured vaguely to his surroundings.

Elder Thomas nodded in understanding, his eyes focussed on the floor. “Me too,” he responded weakly. “Elder Mckinley works so hard, the last thing I want to do is prevent him from getting rest.” 

James hated how sad Poptarts sounded, and hated even more that there was probably not a lot he could do to fix it. He could barely handle his own emotions, let alone someone else’s. He would try, however, if it meant never seeing that melancholy look on the other’s boy face. “What’s keeping you awake?” James asked gently, moving over towards the table and taking a seat adjacent to Thomas. 

“Oh it’s nothing, Elder. Don’t worry about it,” Elder Thomas dismissed with a half-hearted chuckle. James really had no clue what to say next, but thankfully the shorter boy decided to eventually carry on. “It was this time of year that my sister fell ill,” he choked. “I thought being miles away from home would help”. The, _but it hasn’t,_ did not need to be said aloud. 

“I’m sorry,” James said with sincerity. He did not have any siblings himself, but he did have his mother, and if anything were to happen to her he would be destroyed. From the little bits of information that Elder Thomas would occasionally give, he and his sister were very close. James would not wish that upon his worst enemy, which the boy in front of him was so very far from being. 

He wondered how it was fair that the lord would punish someone as sweet as Elder Thomas. The boy who would go to the ends of the earth to cheer someone up. The boy whose eyes lit up when he spoke about something he was interested in, or when he played board games with his friends, or when James would not brush him off entirely. Why did he have to suffer from something as horrific as grief? 

“It’s not your fault Elder,” Thomas assured, forcing a smile. The pair sat in what James would consider being comfortable silence, but it seemed the other disagreed. “You can go back to bed if you want to. I’m sure the last thing you need is to be babysitting _me_ of all people.” 

“What do you mean by that?” 

Elder Thomas smiled sweetly and shook his head. “Nothing, Elder Church. You just-” he paused momentarily, taking in the other man’s lost expression before continuing. “You don’t seem overly fond of me.” 

Oh. 

It’s official: James had never felt like a worse person than he did now. He knew that Elder Thomas had seemed disheartened whenever he brushed off attempts at friendship, but he had no idea it had actually impacted him to the point where he thought James didn’t like him.

“That isn’t true!” James quickly defended. “Of course I like you, who wouldn’t?” 

A noticeable blush crawled up Poptarts’ neck, up to his rosy cheeks and finally the tips of his ears. “But-” he furrowed his brows. “But you avoid me like the plague.” he pointed out, his voice curious rather than accusing. 

“I-” 

He faltered when he realised that he had no decent excuse. He hoped that he could still get his point across, but the knowing look on the shorter man’s face told him he hadn’t. “It’s okay, Elder Church,” he assured gently. 

“But i-” James all but choked, tears well in his eyes. Oh god, could he not handle his emotions for more than five minutes? _Turnitoffturnitoffturnitoffturnitoff._ “I promise it’s not because I don’t like you. It’s quite the opposite actually”. 

He cringed knowing how that sounded, yet Elder Thomas didn’t seem to mind. He simply raised an eyebrow with curiosity and uttered a quiet “oh?” 

James took a breath. “I’ve never been good at making friends,” he began, his voice wobbling. Gosh, what was he doing? His ‘don’t show your emotions’ rule seemed to go out the door as soon as Elder Thomas batted his eyelashes. “So it scared me that you actually wanted to be friends with me. I’d mess it up eventually, so it’s better to just not try.” 

Elder Thomas seemed conflicted between being happy that James’ avoidance was nothing personal, and being heartbroken that it was a general rule of his. He reached across the table and lay a gentle hand on top of James’, either not noticing or choosing to ignore the way he stilled at the contact. “I distanced myself from people when Elizabeth died,” he explained softly, a serious look in his eye. “I didn’t think there was any point in becoming close to people if they were just gonna...die.” 

James frowned and despite his anxiety, he laced their fingers together. Elder Thomas smiled. “You can’t live your life like that, Elder. I was miserable,” he said. “You’re far too sweet to have no friends. Someone like you deserves to be happy.” 

The barriers that James spent his entire life building seemed to crumble there and then as he let out a small sob at the other Elder’s words. “You barely know me,” he reasoned, rather than simply accepting the compliment. 

Elder Thomas waved his free hand dismissively. “I’m a great judge of character,” he retorted, grinning. That sparkle was back in his eye. James found himself smiling too, a genuine smile for the first time since lord knows when. A few moments passed before Elder Thomas squeezed his hand. “Chris,” he said, as-a-matter-of-factly. 

“Huh?” 

“My name is Chris.”

Huh. It suited him, James thought. 

“James.” 

Slowly, he was beginning to realise that he and Chris were friends more than they were just mission brothers, and while the thought freaked him out at first, he couldn’t imagine his life without the blonde in it. 

Day to day life was easier with Chris in it, he realised. He would join in conversations just that little bit more if Elder Thomas was there; he would smile that little bit more often. The other Elders seemed to notice it as well, and it couldn’t be that much of a coincidence that Mckinley had started picking up extra chores with Davis. 

They continued their almost nightly meetups, the nights where one or both of them had a nightmare being more often than not, and those nights would usually end with them cuddled on the sofa in the living quarters. The first time that Chris had bundled the taller man into a hug had thrown him completely off guard, and he tried his hardest not to panic under his considerate touch. The way James tensed had gone unmentioned, but it had not gone unnoticed - the worried look in Chris’ eyes would be ingrained into James; mind forever. 

Eventually, however, Chris’ touch became more second nature than it did a threat, and was a grounding force when things seemed entirely out of control. Chris very quickly learned that it was best to ask permission before touching his friend, and that it was not a personal attack if James solemnly shook his head in response. On those nights, they would sit apart and Chris would tell James’ stories about his life before their mission, promising that when they left for America again he would not be alone. Other times, James did need Chris gentle touch, whether it be a simple brush of their hands during the day or Chris’ tiny body cradled into James’ lap if the short boy had experienced a particularly bad nightmare that night. 

All in all James was the happiest he had ever been. Of course, the dark thoughts would creep upon him from time to time, and the dreams never truly went away, but they were easier to cope with if he had his best friend beside him. 

His barriers were still held high, they were just... _softer_ if Chris was around. 

One night during one of their late-night conversations, James sitting on the sofa with Chris’ head in his lap, the blonde had paused for a moment, biting his lip and blinking up at James owlishly. “Jamie?” he said, his voice gentle. James ran gentle fingers through the shorter boy’s hair, teasing away at knots as he raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh?” 

“What is it that keeps you awake at night?” 

James’ hand stilled. “What do you mean?” 

Chris rolled his eyes playfully before sitting up. He turned his body so that he was still facing James, his legs crossed as he looked the taller boy dead in the eye with his own curious blue orbs.

“Well we’ve been friends for a little while now,” (James couldn’t help but grin, despite the butterflies in his stomach), “but we only ever seem to talk about my problems. I don’t want you to be on your own,” Chris softly admitted, inching his fingertips towards James' hand. 

The dark-haired boy chuckled lightly before waving his hand dismissively. “I’m fine, Chris,” he assured, but the other seemed unconvinced. 

“Well, I have a hard time believing you’d be awake at these hours every night if there wasn’t something keeping you up.” 

If ever questioned, James would deny the fact that he would stay awake each night simply to hear Chris’ voice even if he could peacefully sleep the night through. 

“It’s nothing important, Elder.” 

Chris rolled his eyes at the title. “Come on, Jamie. I want to be here for you as much as you are for me,” he pressed, linking their hands together. 

James wasn’t sure if it was Chris’ kind words or the way that his stomach churned with butterflies at the way their hands fit together just perfectly, but his eyes began to well with tears. He tried to turn his head away from Chris’ view, but it seemed the blonde had already noticed. “Oh James, I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’m a bit useless at this.” 

Despite his glossy eyes, James smiled and even huffed a breathless chuckle. “It’s not you, Chris. I swear,” he assured, squeezing his hand. “I guess I've turned it off my whole life that I don’t really know where to begin.”

Chris nodded, his eyes wide with sympathy and concerned and such pure understanding as he inched a little closer to James. Their faces were barely even a few inches apart, and James felt a crimson blush creep up his neck at their close proximity that he hoped wasn’t too noticeable. Then again, even if it was, Chris was sporting a very similar shade of pink so he couldn’t find it within himself to be _too_ embarrassed.

“You don’t have to turn it off with me,” Chris whispered gently. If it weren’t for how close they were, James maybe wouldn’t have even caught it. 

Without even thinking, James leant forward only very slightly, and Chris seemed to follow suit until their lips brushed ever so carefully. He’d have missed it all together if it wasn’t for the fact that his skin felt like it was on fire so he felt extra sensitive to every little touch. They pulled away from each other, only slightly, and James could feel the shorter boy’s warm breath tickle his face and taste the ghost of a sugary treat on his own lips. He chuckled softly - poptarts. 

Yet when he caught eyes with Chris once more, the reality of what he had done became so much more evident. “I-I’m sorry, i-”. 

He was cut off by their lips connecting once more, this time a little more firmly, but it was as sweet and as magical as the first. Chris pulled back after a few moments, a sheepish little smile on his face that made James' heart swell. He couldn’t help but match the blonde’s smile, which broke out into a grin when Chris giggled. “Did I go too far?” he checked, his tone nervous, but the smile still played on his lips. 

James shook his head. “It was perfect,” he uttered breathlessly, wincing internally at how _needy_ he sounded, but Chris’ smile only widened at his words. “Good,” the other responded. 

When their blushes and smiles had eventually simmered down, Chris curled up next to James and linked their hands again. “So, do you want to talk to me about what goes on in that pretty head of yours?” 

Maybe it was the sweet way Chris had called him _pretty_ that made James putty in his hands. He inhaled a shuddering breath before nodding. “My, uh,” he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “My dad gets violent, when he drinks,” he quietly admitted. The words burned his throat as he uttered them, realising with a start it was probably the first time he’d said them aloud. 

He expected Chris to have some sort of extreme reaction, to maybe even decide that James’ problems were too extreme for him to try and fix, but instead, the blue-eyed blonde simply looked... _sad._ James could tell the way Chris was putting together the pieces in his head, a look of understanding suddenly flashing across his features. 

“I’m sorry,” was the only thing that Chris could think to say at that moment. 

“I’m just worried about my mom,” James said quietly. “When I’m at home I can keep her safe.” 

He choked back a wet sob as he finally looked Chris in the eyes. “Do you think I’m a horrible person for being here?” 

Chris’ entire face contorted into one of pure sympathy as he threw his arms around the other boy’s neck, having to manoeuvre himself slightly to compensate for the drastic height difference between them.

“Oh James,” he practically whimpered against the crook of his neck. “Of course you aren’t a horrible person. You’re the sweetest boy I know, but you don’t have to play hero all the time.” 

James whimpered, gripping onto Chris tighter. He hadn’t realised how much he needed a genuine, bone-crushing embrace until the blonde had practically thrown himself into his arms. It felt good; safe even. He trusted Chris enough to be vulnerable like this around him, and the thought made his stomach turn in both fear and excitement at that realisation. 

“But she’s my mom,” he reasoned in a croaky voice.

He felt Chris’ hand gently smooth down his dark hair as he shushed him gently. “That’s a lot for you to have to deal with, you deserve to have a break. Keep yourself safe,” he cooed gently, keeping his embrace firm. 

“Is-” Chris paused and seemed to reconsider his words. “Is that why you get nervous when people touch you?” 

James nodded wordlessly. 

“Is this okay?” Chris checked, suddenly aware that he practically had his hands all over the taller boy. 

James nodded again. “It’s okay when I know it’s just you,” he admitted softly. 

Chris’ relief was short-lived, as he frowned and pressed a gentle kiss into James’ hairline. “I don’t know how anyone could hurt someone as sweet as you.” 

With those words, James’ walls had crumbled, his barriers suddenly bursting like an overflooded dam as a choked cry left his throat. No one had ever said anything as kind to him before, and James didn’t know how much he needed to hear those words until he did.

He had never considered whether or not he actually _deserved_ the abuse his father hurled at him as he was more concerned with keeping his mother safe. That’s all that had mattered to him since his dad seemed to decide the age of seven was suddenly old enough for him to endure the pain that came with the Utah Jazz losing _again._

The boys remained in that position until James’ sobs softened into quieter whimpers, and they eventually dozed off together. When Connor found them sometime throughout the night, grabbing a glass of water after his own experience with a hell dream, he said nothing and simply draped a blanket over their bodies which were huddled together, a small smile on his face. He wouldn’t bring that one up until years later. 

They never brought up James’ home life again after that, Chris opting to let James bring it up if and when he needed to and James deciding that one heart to heart about his childhood was quite enough for him for the foreseeable future. 

That is, until around a month later when an unexpected argument broke out in the mission hut. It was over something silly, and James wasn’t even directly involved in the fight, but as soon as he heard one of the other elders, Neeley, his clouded brain helped supply, raise their voice he could no longer think straight. 

His yelling had provoked someone else to shout back, and then another to retaliate, until eventually James couldn’t make out individuals words and could only hear a cacophony of meaningless, yet no less threatening, noises. It seemed the frustrations of living in such close living quarters had suddenly taken their toll on the usually mild-mannered elders of district nine, but James couldn’t even bring himself to care about what they were arguing about. 

All he knew is that he needed to get _out,_ and soon. It was as if the walls of the poky hut were closing in on him, and he suddenly found himself wheezing and gasping for breath, desperate for some means of escaping the situation. 

The other elders, far too preoccupied with their verbal brawl against one another, had barely noticed that James had snuck off into his room, burying his head under his pillow to try and drown out the noise of his brothers. Their yelling was now somewhat muffled, but nowhere near quiet, and James couldn’t help the anxiety bubbling up inside him. His brain struggled to make the connection that he wasn’t at home, that his father wasn’t going to burst into his room at any moment and take all of his pent up frustration on him. 

The logical part of his brain said that his fellow brothers would never resort to violence and that this was a fluke, but the more irrational, instinctive part of his brain told him that he was in danger - that he needed out. Leaving the hut was not an option as he would have to walk back through the living room where the domestic was taking place, and he wasn’t convinced his legs would carry him that far regardless. So, James resorted to his childhood tricks. 

He grabbed the blanket from his bed and stuffed it into the bottom of his closet, before grabbing his pillow and climbing in. the thick wooden walls of the box, combined with the walls of his room sufficiently drowned out most of the yelling. Curling his lanky body up around his pillow, gripping onto it like a lifeline, James finally allowed his heavy-lidded eyes to close. 

Chris had returned to the mission hut, side by side with Connor, after spending a few hours with some of the children in the village, giving their parents a small break for the afternoon. He’d had a nice day, despite the way his mission companion would bang on endlessly about Elder Price but then furiously deny it if confronted. When the two of them entered, they noticed it was in absolute chaos. 

“What on _earth_ is going on, boys?” Mckinley demanded, slipping easily into his bossy district leader voice. 

The other elders had stopped screaming at one another for a few moments before they all ducked their head in shame. “Sorry Elder Mckinley,” Neeley muttered, his eyes trained on the ground, which was followed by a chorus of apologies from everyone else involved too. 

Mckinley was about to give them all a lecture on how to behave with one another as if they were all children until Chris’ eyes frantically scanned around the room. “Where’s James?” he asked, trying to settle the nerves in his stomach. 

The room fell silent as the other elders began to look around the room, their faces falling when they saw no sign of Elder Church. It seemed they were all worried enough to not interrogate Chris as to why the two were on first-name basis. 

Chris groaned and sent a glare to each person in the room before stomping his foot like that of a child. “You _idiots_ ,” he spat, furious, before storming off towards the room that James shared with Elder Davis. His tone visibly softened when he reached the door, knocking gently. 

He furrowed his brows when he received no answer, and very slowly opened the door so that he didn’t shock James as he did. When he had finally entered the room, he panicked slightly when he found that no one was in it. 

He was about to freak out entirely, when he noticed a slight shuffling noise coming from the closet. He couldn’t help the slight smile of relief that broke out on his face when he realised exactly where James was. Carefully, he opened the wooden door after tapping on it, to reveal a very sleepy, curled up Elder Church. If the timing was more appropriate Chris might have spent some time marvelling at how cute he looked, but it was hardly the right moment for that. 

“James, honey,” he cooed softly, placing a gentle hand on the elder’s shoulder. James jolted awake, flinching away from Chris’ touch and panicking further when he had nowhere to move to. “Hey, it’s just me,” the blonde quickly assured, and despite his disorientated haze encroached with anxiety, he settled visibly as the sound of Chris’ voice. 

“M’ sorry,” he murmured, his voice small and frightened, 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, pal,” Chris promised. “But let’s get you out of the closet.” 

He winced at his terrible wording - that was a conversation for another time, and quickly reiterated. “You’ll get a crick in your neck, sweetie, let’s sit together on the bed. That sound okay?” 

James nodded and allowed himself to be helped by Chris, who held his arm and kept him steady as he was led towards his bed. They sat together for a few moments in complete silence before James spoke up. “You probably think I’m an idiot.” 

Chris was quick to shake his head, laying a gentle hand on top of James’ and beginning gently to trace shapes into the other boy’s flesh when he didn’t flinch away. “Of course I don’t. But do you want to talk about it?” 

James shook his head, leaning against Chris. “It was loud,” was all he said, but it was all he had to say. Chris understood perfectly well. 

They spent the rest of the evening cramped together in James’ single bed, James’ head laying on top of Chris’ chest, their height difference making it difficult but no less perfect. For the first time all day, James allowed himself to breathe. 

  
  


When the two of them announced their relationship a few months later, none of the other elders were surprised. It turned out that each of them had found the pair curled up together at some point or another, no matter how discreet they believed themselves to be. Their friends were understandably concerned, but no less supportive and happy for the two boys who had found safety within each other. 

James proposed on the last day of their mission, a knotted blade of grass acting as a temporary ring. 

Of course, Chris said yes. 

here is the link to the fic I got this idea from: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/24614152/chapters/60803260> \- check them out :) 


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